


Vlad Kemenov, or the vengeance of the Potters

by Amaras



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And doesn't go to Gryffindor, And he's called Vlad, Gen, Harry is going to be Lord Potter, He's also in the mafia, Translation, but he's RUSSIAN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-04-03 21:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14005359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaras/pseuds/Amaras
Summary: Dumbledore leaves Harry Potter in front of the Dursleys' house, but he is surprised to discover him the start of the school year, bearing the name Vlad Kemenov. Heir of a powerful Russian Clan that has deep ties with the magical Mafia, Vlad is sorted into Ravenclaw. Helped by his friends and family, he gains ground in the English society with a simple goal: to avenge his parents.





	1. The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Vlad Kemenov ou la vengeance des Potters](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/364341) by magouille. 



> This is a translation from a story I loved and I'd like to share it with you all.
> 
> Enjoy!

#### Godric Hollow—October 1981

The emerald green eyes of the young boy were fixated on the body on the floor. Around him, the dust was slowly settling after the walls partially collapsed. Wooden shards went everywhere when the furniture had exploded. Everywhere except on the child’s bed and the woman on the floor.

Despite the late time and the ruins, strange glowing energy bubbles floated in the room, lighting the lying woman’s ginger hair. Her pale face torn by fear contrasted with the fire of her hair.

"Ma…"

The child’s babbling echoed in the funereal silence. He reached out for the bars with his chubby little hands and hung onto them, eyes still fixed on the lifeless body of his mother.

"Ma!"

He called her once again, straightening up after a fashion, and then another time, and another, his voice sounding increasingly distressed…

"Mama…"

The weak voice of the boy ended in little tremolos as tears appeared in his eyes. He rubbed his nose, sniffing, and implored his mother once more, before his little child’s mind understood. She was too fast asleep to hear him, and she never would again. As what happened to his _granma_ , she was gone elsewhere.

Sitting alone in his crib, he cried silently, the emerald green eyes never looking off the fire—which now seemed extinguished—of her hair.

Slowly, the energy sparks vanished, plunging the room into a frightening—but appropriate—darkness. Death had gone for a family.

The child did not utter a sound that night, only cried in silence. Never made a noise, even when a roar resounded in the street and a dark-haired man cried out his pain before leaving again, seeking vengeance… Not even when a giant knocked the door down, followed by an old white man… He felt being lifted up, and closed his eyes, exhausted by his tears.

That was the last time Harry James Potter cried.


	2. The Kemonovs

### Somewhere in Bulgaria—July 1991

"No, please, I have nothing to do with it; it’s Yuri, it’s Yuri that…"

"Shut up!"

The cold voice snapped and the kneeling man trembled even more. The man—very large, a perfect blend of fat and muscles—mechanically reached down for his pocket and gasped when he found out it was empty.

Is this what you are looking for, Gregorovitch?

The voice—young—made the shaking man turn his head to look at a small figure—a child—move into the flickering light of a candle. Gregorovitch gulped when he caught the hypnotic green eyes of the boy. His face was void of any emotion: cold like the Arctic, as terrifying as the disdain he had in his eyes. He was flippantly swirling a slim pale wand in his hands.

"You know, I received a letter from Hogwarts this morning. I should have bought my wand in your shop, but Katya chose to burn it down."

An astonished hiccup gushed out of Gregorovitch’s throat, followed by harrowing sobs when he realised what the cruel words of the child meant. Years of his work had just vanished in mere hours.

You couldn’t do that, you did not have any right to!" he wailed, his Slavic accent now much clearer.

"No right to? You owed the Mirage Court millions of Galleons. Your shop belonged to us, as did your work. Now, for the last time: shut up!"

A spell hit him, and the man was silenced, no sound crossing his lips. He rolled panicked eyes for a few seconds, and then seemed to understand that he could not fight.

"As I said before being interrupted most impolitely," the child continued, "I should have bought my wand in your shop. You are said to be an excellent wandmaker, but I have chosen to go to Ollivander’s. Your best enemy seems to be more gifted for business than you are…"

The wandmaker gesticulated.

"I think he wants to talk…"

Another spell gushed from the darkness cloaking one of the attackers, and he could speak once more.

"Who… Who are you?"

"Oh… Haven’t we been introduced?" the voice in the shadow mused. "I’m terribly sorry for our lack of courtesy."

The unknown person slowly moved into the flickering light, revealing a young thirty-year-old woman with short, uncombed hair and hazel eyes.

"I am Katya Kemenov, one of the leaders of the Mirage Court of Eastern Europe, and this is my nephew, Vlad."

Igor Gregorovitch looked closely at both of his torturers. Their faces seemed terribly familiar even though he had never met them. The family resemblance was blatant. Despite his long hair, the boy looked frighteningly like his aunt, physically, as well as in his attitude. Then his gaze turned to one of the scars on the boy. There, right in the middle of his forehead, a lightning bolt was standing out.

### Hogwarts—some days later

Albus Dumbledore, director of one of the most prestigious schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Europe, seemed to want to dig a trench in his office, in the humble opinion of his friend and colleague, Professor Severus Snape.

Since last night, the famous man was panicked. He realised that the letters—plentiful according to Minerva—addressed to Harry Potter had never been responded to. Hagrid had to look for the family of the little snot Potter. Severus Snape grumbled, thinking the boy seemed of the same tribe as his father. Despicable.

Since then, they awaited the return of the gamekeeper.

The Potions Master took his copy of the Daily Prophet, looking first at the author of the article before reading it, ignoring anything written by Rita Skeeter or Alan Gorgonay. He turned a few pages before reading the international section and quaking at the title.

> **The famous Bulgarian wandmaker found dead!**
> 
> Igor Gregorovitch, main wand provider for Magical Eastern Europe has been found dead in the forecourt of the Gringott’s bank of Predka Street in Minsk in a grim staging, after his shop was burned down two days before. 
> 
> Victim of the Mirage Court! p.1  
>  A secret man, the story of Igor Gregorovitch. p.3  
>  Tribute to Igor Gregorovitch by Garrick Ollivander. p.7

Professor Severus Snape frowned at the mention of the Mirage Court. Gregorovitch was not that smart if he had business with the magical world’s mafia. For that matter, it had been years since the Mirage Court had not been in any article of the Daily Prophet. Although it was not surprising, given the rag it had become.

He raised his head, observing for a little while Albus, who was determined to dig his trench deeper, muttering without looking at him. Severus shrugged and resumed his reading. 

> **Victim of the Mirage Court!**
> 
> Last morning, the first shopkeepers squeezing in the Predka Street in Minsk could see a sinister display in front of Gringott’s. Hanged to the entrance of the bank, with a bare chest, and wearing the infamous mark of the Court carved directly on his skin, Igor Gregorovitch was found dead, mouth full of Galleons, and his hands cut off.

Severus looked at the photograph, strangely still, for once. It showed the hanged man, and he shivered when he recognised the symbol. A dagger crossing a wand. Underneath the bloody tattoo, he saw another one, this time with ink, making him snort. Igor Gregorovitch once belonged to the Ukrainian branch of the magical mafia. He continued to read, fulminating against the thoughtless people. 

> A highly symbolic death, as always when it comes to the Mirage Court. Igor Gregorovitch probably was a former member of the Mirazh, the Ukrainian Court, who seem to want to make an example for their partners and enemies. The sudden exile to Bulgaria in the 1950’s of the wandmaker now makes more sense.
> 
> One has to note the meticulousness of the staging. Everything is linked and «justifies» the execution by the Court. The money in the mouth and the place—Gringott’s—tell that this dark matter is about money debt. The cut-off hands is an ancient punishment for thieves, as for the hanging, it is no less than the traditional sentence for treason. Gregorovitch would be for the mafia a traitor and a thief.
> 
> Furthermore, it is important to note that Gregorovitch’s shop was burned down by arson, which destroyed everything (see our 30 July article) after the owner mysteriously vanished.
> 
> The Bulgarian Aurors, under the direction of… 

Severus stopped reading when someone knocked at the door of the Director’s office. Albus hurried to let them in and the Potion Professor gritted his teeth when he saw the giant looked shattered as he entered the room.

"Hagrid, reassure me, my friend," said the Director with a friendly smile, a friendly old man mask stuck on his face

"I’m s’rry Sir, but the Dursleys deny having ever seen their nephew. I… took the liberty to check… Harry Potter nev’r liv’d in their house."

Albus Dumbledore’s mask shattered as he took his head in his hands, suddenly weary.

Harry Potter had vanished.


	3. The Hogwarts Express

### King’s Cross—September 1991

Vlad sighed while squeezing through the crowd, his aunt following closely behind him. He could sense the presence of Sergei, remaining in his post of bodyguard, disappearing in the shadows, but ready to step in if neither Katya nor Vlad could overcome the threat. 

'And the probabilities are low,' thought Vlad ironically, before grumbling in Russian against a ginger girl who bumped into him. Platform 9 ¾ of King’s Cross station was packed, even if the Hogwarts Express was not scheduled to leave until an hour later. 

The little ginger girl blushed, but Vladmir ignored her, his public mask put into place, and continued to the back of the train. There were a lot less people, to his relief. He turned to his aunt, and allowed himself to remove the hood of his wizard robe, glaring at the loud crowd of parents and children.

" **I'd rather have gone to Durmstrang,** " he protested on principle to his aunt.

She raised an eyebrow, the only sign of her amusement, and passed her hand through her hair, ruffling her shock of hair. They had had this conversation dozens of times, the same arguments repeated indefinitely. She knew Vlad didn’t want the celebrity status he would have at Hogwarts, preferring the gloomier atmosphere of Durmstrang.

" **You know perfectly well that Igor is a complete moron, as well as a coward, and that the magic studied there is ridiculous.** "

" **I know Katya, but at least there are lessons on dark magic.** "

" **You wouldn’t have learned anything you didn’t know, kitty,** " Katya smiled, " **and your parents studied at Hogwarts.** "

Vlad sighed and grumbled some more vainly, as Sergei’s laughter rang behind him.

" **Come on kitty, you know what to do in Hogwarts, and you will be able to make connections and broaden your knowledge; after all…** "

" **Knowledge is power,** " Vlad finished her sentence, smiling and looking at the man that appeared suddenly.

He was tall, pale, and his eyes were of a hypnotic red; he was fascinating, but his aura was scary. Upon realising several pupils stared at them, intrigued by their eastern accent, he gave a faint scowl, showing two long, sharp canines. The youngest of the students turned pale and some wizard parents discreetly took their wands out. 

" **Sergei, stop frightening everyone, bloody vampire.** " Katya smiled.

" **Yes, your majesty.** " The vampire laughed, flippantly turning his back on the menacing humans. " **Go ahead kitty, you will be able to manipulate everyone. I would love to see their face when they realise you are their Survivor-who-vanished, Harry Potter.** " 

" **Yeah, but you can’t, nobody’s perfect.** " Katya laughed at him. " **More seriously, Vlad, if someone tries to hurt you, remind them you are…** " 

" **I know, I am Vladmir Vassilievitch Kemenov, Lord Potter and crown prince of Kzerna,** " said Vlad, with a lopsided grin.

" **Exactly Kitty. So don’t let anyone get in your way, and send me Hedwig at worst.** "

A signal rang in the station and the train whistled. The vampire cursed and rapidly took a small packet out, before pointing his wand on the object, which took the form of a heavy trunk. With another gesture, he made an owl cage appear, where a snowy owl hooted in protest against the shake-up.

" **Come on little prince, be brave! Make the most of your student life and above all, don’t kill anybody… unless you are sure you won’t get caught!** "

On that last piece of advice, Katya kissed her nephew on the forehead. She moved aside an unruly lock that poked out of his ponytail and straightened his glasses up gently. Vlad sighed at this sentimentalism and hugged her before bidding Sergei goodbye. He climbed in the carriage right when the train started and waved to his family one last time. Then, he watched them Apparate away, while other parents waved to their children, some crying like this large ginger woman, whose daughter had bumped into him.

ginger woman, whose daughter had bumped into him. His face expressionless once again, he looked out of the window and cast a spell on his suitcase. After all, the Hogwarts Express was a part of the school, some magic was allowed! Vlad then hunted for an empty compartment. He found one at the far end of the carriage, levitated his case, and dropped onto the seat. 

" _Sasha, you can get out,_ " he murmured, placing a hand in his pocket.

A relieved whistling responded and a small silvery snake slid out. 

" _At last! I was choking in here! Next time, I take my rightful place!_ "

Vlad scratched the ice viper gently, who sighed out of bliss. He remembered how he had discovered his gift: he had found Sasha fatally injured by a Muggle farmer’s pitchfork blow. The small snake was in agonising pain and had begged him to kill it. Instead, and despite his surprise of understanding the snake, he brought it to his aunt, running as fast as his five-year-old legs could carry him. He saved Sasha and discovered the name of his gift. He was a Parselmouth. 

He would need to be careful in Hogwarts, and Sasha knew she needed to hide, if she wanted to accompany him. After all, only cats, rats, toads and owls were allowed…

Sasha suddenly whistled and curled around his wrist, transforming into a silver snake-shaped bracelet. The door opened to reveal a young girl with dishevelled hair, and a chubby, panicking boy.

"Sorry to bother you but have you seen a toad? Neville lost his..."

"No," Vlad said briskly, expressionless.

"Never mind!" the girl sighed, disappointed. "We have just went through the whole train…"

Vlad did not answer, only raising a mocking eyebrow, staring at them. A Muggle-born, judging by her surprised look for his wizard outfit.

"You should change…"

"The train arrives in several hours, but you can stay if you want to enjoy the show." Vlad sneered.

The girl suddenly blushed and rushed out of the compartment, while Neville stared at his forehead.

'My, my. That’s interesting,' Vlad thought. He did not seem panicked now. Just rightly interested. Pure-blood, that’s for sure, and he plays an excellent role, apparently. 

"Neville Frank Longbottom, heir of the Very Noble Longbottom Family," he declared, extending his hand to Vlad, his face unblinking.

"Vladmir Vassilievitch Kemenov, Lord Potter," Vlad answered, shaking his hand.

"So, you are alive. How do I call the Potter heir?"

"My life name will be enough. And you keep your card close to your chest, Lord Longbottom."

"As any self-respecting heir," he smiled. "I am Neville."

"Vlad."

The boys shook their hands once more, and Neville left the compartment, an anxious look on his face once more. The young wizard gave a faint, cold smile, looking at the door.

His mother was right. Politics started at school, and he had made his first contact. The die is cast; Vlad Kemenov was turning up at Hogwarts.


	4. The Sorting Ceremony

### Hogwarts—September 1991

A few minutes before the Hogwarts Express arrived in Hogsmeade, Vladmir dressed in his robes, observing the Scottish landscape out of the window. Mechanically, he straightened his uniform and his tie, so far void of any colour. Vlad knew what was going to happen for his sorting, and it was stressing as well as amusing him. Stress because, despite all his efforts, he wasn’t sure what his house would be, and amusement because all his close relations had made bets on that, everyone with solid arguments.

According to Largo—the manager for their Court’s games section—large amounts of money were in the pot. Vlad’s smile widened. Whatever the result, he would win half the benefits; the other half would obviously be for Largo.

The train stopped and he waited for the desperately loud crowd to get out before leaving himself, his case shrunk down with Hedwig’s cage. Hedwig hooted, opening a sleepy eye before disappearing into the fabric, as she was used to this strange mode of transport.

“First years, ev’ry one here? C’mon, follow me. And careful where ye set yer foots. Let’s go!”

Vald swore in Russian when he saw a half-giant leading his future schoolmates while he was not even on the platform and—without running, Katya raised him better than that—he increased his stride. He rapidly caught up with the crowd trudging along a stone path. He gave a faint smile when he gazed at Neville, who was sniffing pathetically. He seemed to feel that, because he winked furtively at Vlad; a wink that clashed with his anxious appearance. What a remarkable actor…

After a long walk in what Vlad guessed was a forest, they reached a small beach near a lake, and you could hear delighted exclamations.

The Russian raised his head. He had to admit the sight was spectacular. Hogwarts stood out against the night sky, dazzling, imposing, fit for a king, the reflection shimmering in the black lake water. He looked at the dozens of small barques, firmly attached to the pontoon. After the walk, the swimming… Oh joy!

“N’more than four per boat!” the giant exclaimed, encouraging the first years to climb on board.

Vlad was the on the same boat as the Longbottom heir, the Muggle-born girl from the Hogwarts Express, and a ginger boy wearing second-hand robes that strangely reminded him of someone.

“Oh! I haven’t introduced myself on the train. Hermione Granger,” she cried out, holding her hand out. “I’ve just discovered the magical world, and I’m eager to have our first lessons. I hope I’ll be sorted into Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and to adapt well.”

“Statistically, half of Muggle-borns get out of the magical world a few years after getting their diploma because of social discrimination. You can adapt well, but you risk having integration problems, let’s remember the facts. Vlad Kemenov,” he introduced himself, shaking her hand.

Vlad’s expressionless face and his grim analysis made her shiver, and she turned pale when she understood the real implications of the young noble’s words.

“Don’t listen to this evil Death-Eater,” grumbled the ginger boy, “Muggle-borns are well accepted.”

“I am not a Death-Eater, and for your guidance, my mother was Muggle-born, so I don’t have a prejudice. I have just stated a fact.”

The ginger boy fell silent; he was obviously hesitating between continuing a pointless debate and showing some common sense. To Vlad’s relief, he chose the second alternative and introduced himself as Ronald Weasley, although mistrust was clear in his stare.

Weasley… Weasley… The young Kemenov had heard that name, not far from his home, in the east countries.

“Weasley, as in Charles Weasley, from Romania?” he asked calmly, the information coming back.

“So you know my brother?” exclaimed Ron, his suspicion replaced by a wide smile on his lips, making him look gullible, especially with the stain on his nose.

“Only by name,” Vladmir answered tersely.

Well, he wouldn’t tell him that he knew Charlie since he arrived in the Umbrire, the Romanian Court. He was an excellent smuggler for everything about his area of expertise.

Vlad’s comment left them in a heavy silence, the four children lost in their contemplation of the school that was quickly getting closer.

Very quickly… Before one could say “Quidditch”, Vlad was at the bottom of a vast staircase, waiting to be allowed into the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Slipping into the shadows, he had the leisure to observe his fellow students, and immediately noticed a young blond boy, with a jutting chin and an arrogant face.

Undeniably a Malfoy, surrounded by his courtiers.

His aunt hadn’t given him many names, choosing to let him discover England’s politics by himself, politics that was reflected in the prestigious school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But he was told about the Malfoys. And not for the better… However, she was hesitant about the clan’s heir. Vlad therefore had to make his own mind on the son of one of the dark wizards of England.

Vladmir watched him observe as carefully as him the other students, noticing his despising spout to the Muggle-born students – who could easily identified by their amazed faces – and his visible disgust for Ronald Weasley and Neville Longbottom.

And then, the emerald-green eyes met the stormy-grey ones. Eyes that were slowly rising, staring at Vald’s scar as the pupils swelled, the only visible sign of his surprise. Then his gaze was conniving as he approached.

“So it’s true; I was told Harry Potter was on the train. I am…”

“Draco Lucius Malfoy,” Vlad concluded with a slight smile, straightening up from the wall that he was leaning on, to shake the hand. “However, you are mistaken about my identity, heir. I am Vladmir Vassilievitch Kemenov.”

The blond’s still chubby face became tense, but a spark of understanding rose up in his eyes. Malfoy seemed relatively intelligent, and aware of some dated magical laws.

“Call me Draco, Heir of the Noble Potter Family.”

“Only if you call me Vladmir.”

“I heard Longbottom and a Mudblood talk about you on the train. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there, Vladmir.”

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks, Malfoy,” Vlad said coolly. “And if you want our relationship to stay cordial, do not use Mudblood ever again; I am proud of my ancestry.” 

The Pure-blood immediately realised his mistake, but it allowed his vis-à-vis to establish his first opinion. Attentive, intelligent, but already full of prejudice. A little Gryffindor-y, judging by the way he talked without thinking. All the books published on him highlighted the Muggle heritage from his mother. 

After some convoluted apologies — bloody noble not willing to belittle himself to apologise — he accepted, a professor made a quick presentation of the school before leading them into the Great Hall. 

He heard from afar the commentary of Granger on the magical ceiling but he was more interested in the array of professors in front of him, especially one… 

Albus Dumbledore seemed weary and particularly old that evening, and his mood was reverberated in his colleagues’. With a neutral face, Vladmir memorised the aura of the Director, although inside him, his thirst for revenge rose up. He breathed deeply, pushing back feelings he didn’t want to feel for now and took the time to observe his surroundings and the sorting of the other students, until… 

“Kemenov, Vladmir.” 

The young Russian moved forward to the stool, his face devoid of all expression, his deportment absolutely perfect. He noted with satisfaction the astonishment on Dumbledore’s face, who half straightened up in his imperious seat, the sudden hate in the eyes of the dark-haired man, and the interest in those of the one with the strange turban. 

He sat himself on the wobbly stool while the Sorting Hat was put down on his head. A sardonic smile stretched his lips. The bets were over. 


	5. The Sorting Ceremony, Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!  
> Sorry for being late on publication, yesterday was my birthday, so I've been a bit too busy to publish...
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter!

### Hogwarts — September 1991

_“You shouldn’t worry about that, Kitty,” sighed Katya, sitting on the edge of the bed to run her hand through her nephew’s long hair._

_“I know Katya, but I can’t. According to Ju-jie, I am as crafty as a snake and she tells me I’m going to be a Slytherin, Sergei thinks my courage will get me into Gryffindor, Olga is certain I am as loyal and patient as a Hufflepuff, and Nikolaï harasses me with Ravenclaw!”_

_Head on his pillow, Vlad didn’t see the soft but amused smile of his aunt. After all, her kitten was still a child in many ways._

_Katya settle against the headboard, and nearly immediately, a dark-haired young wizard’s head nestled on her lap. She laughed and resumed stroking his hair._

_“Hogwarts chose to organize as many houses as there were founders, to gather the children according to their capabilities and personalities. I don’t say it is the best solution, but it is not a bad one. It allows the development of coherent study groups, and, in theory, a healthy competition. Durmstrang chose a scholar level ranking organization, geniuses vs. dunces, if you like. It encourages students to try and change classes, according to their level. You know, their best students all started in the “bad” classes, before getting in the “good” classes when they finished school. However, some get discouraged because, despite all their best effort, they stay in the “bad classes”. Now, for the last famous school of Europe. The French school decided to separate girls, in Beauxbatons, and boys in Rochefroide. If the girls’ boarding school is famous, the boys’ one is not, and their only valid teaching is their advanced duelling option. The French wizards are excellent duellists, in both magical and Muggle style.”_

 

_Katya took a break, and Vlad looked at her, more surprised than worried, contrary to the moment when she entered the room._

_“Why are you telling me that about the great European schools?”_

_“Because they all have their pros and cons, as with the four houses of Hogwarts. And yet, every student is proud to belong to theirs, even if it wasn’t their original choice. A griffin has courage and some king of nobility, trying to protect the weak and defenceless, but they are also reckless and easily offended. A badger will be loyal in all situations and their friend can count on them. It’s not luck that their house is the most steady, both in results and in friendships. However, they stay indecisive and rarely make a decision on their own. It is a solid group, but many of them, if taken individually, seem weak and cowardly. The eagles have a remarkable intelligence and devote themselves to their studies. They are the little scholars of Hogwarts, and their HQ is the library, but they rarely think about something other than their books and are sometimes a bit… out of sync with the school’s realities. As for the snakes… I think it is the most complex House… Ambitious, cunning, they are also the greatest strategists. Nothing is thoughtless in their actions, but they thus seem sly and arrogant.”_

_“I…”_

_"All of this just to say that, whichever your House is, Vladmir Vassilievitch," she murmured, leaning against him, "I will be proud of you."_

_Vlad felt his anxiety vanish, and he sighed in relief as he cuddled up to his aunt. Unconsciously, he had been afraid of the opinion of his only family._

* * *

“Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived…” laughed a little voice, “or rather, Vladmir Kemenov. Thank you, young heir, it has been a long time since I had this much fun!” 

“What do you mean?”

“I love how old Dumby panicked when he discovered you had disappeared! It halts his gallop when he can’t control everything.” 

“There are several surprises still left for him to discover,” jeered Vlad, “you can still have a bit of fun.” 

“Perfect, I will go see you when he finds out, then! By the way, I am André…”

Vlad would nearly see the radiant smile of the magical entity on his head as it was starting to rummage around in his mind with an unconcealed enthusiasm. 

“Blimey, it has been centuries since I’ve seen someone with such an organized mind,” the Sorting Hat said with a whistle, going through the huge library-like mind of the young Russian. “Let’s see here… Courageous and powerful… Intelligent and thoughtful, cunning and ambitious, loyal and hard-working! That is very bothersome…” 

Vlad felt the Sorting Hat go back to the entrance of his mind. Curious, he materialized in front of the entity which looked like a small ball of light.

“You seem puzzled, Sorting Hat.”

“André,” immediately corrected the Sorting Hat. “You can be sorted into any of the Houses; they are all fit for you. Any preference?”

Vlad immobilised, surprised, and thought a little, books appearing and disappearing in front of the amused entity. It was always fascinating to watch an Occlumens’ mind working. 

The young boy, lost in his thoughts, dematerialized, but his presence became stronger. André the Sorting Hat saw new books being created as Vlad’s thinking intensified. Fascinated, he saw a new book appear and slide into the Magical Entities and Objects. Then lines of a smooth writing were being drawn, forming words, sentences, then a full page, and another one. His mind was so trained that thought sorting was nearly spontaneous… And André only ever heard of one wizard capable of such a feat, a Russian wizard with an international reputation… Grigori Rasputin. 

Vlad ignored the prying mind watching him, concentrating on the houses. Slytherin? No… Even if it was suitable, he didn’t want to raise suspicion with Dumbledore watching over him… And it wasn’t the best house to make numerous contacts, as two houses would probably not want to have anything to do with him. Gryffindor… neither. Vlad didn’t want to alienate the snakes. Too many potentially influential people were there. Hufflepuff was an interesting house, but a bit too… passive for him, except if he made a little revolution. It was not the best solution if he wanted to stay in the shadows. There was only Ravenclaw left… And knowledge was power after all, wasn’t it?

“Self-serving reasoning, Vladmir Vassilievitch, you will thus go to…

“RAVENCLAW!”

He straightened up, taking off the magic hat, and they smiled at each other. 

“See you later friend,” sniggered the Sorting Hat. “Dumby seems like he’s about to have a heart attack.”

Vlad’s smile became predatory as he looked at the Head Table, but it immediately disappeared when his face became neutral once again. The bronze and azure table was applauding him, but he took the time to salute Albus Dumbledore, who really didn’t seem to be in tip-top condition, with a discrete nod.

Vlad turned away from the Head Table and walked to a free seat at the end of a row. He greeted his new housemates and observed the end of the Sorting Ceremony. Draco got into Slytherin, which was not surprising, but Neville, who got into Gryffindor, was, and Vlad exchanged a knowing smile. 

Strange, very strange. The Longbottom heir either brilliantly manipulated the Sorting Hat, or he got the same opportunity as he had to choose his house. 

Neville Longbottom was a fascinating enigma he would love to solve. 

Vlad looked once more at the Head Table, scanning the professors. The guy with greasy hair was still staring at him with a menacing glare, which left him completely indifferent, while distractingly listening to the man with a turban. Vlad imperceptibly frowned when he felt the sharp pain in his scar. 

‘Well, well, well… Truly, this year would not exactly be a walk in the park,’ he thought while rubbing the little thunderbolt. 

Meanwhile, Dumby’s tedious and completely crazy speech was over. He liked this little nickname. It made him think of a Muggle garden gnome. You know, those ridiculous figurines with long beards. Yes, a garden gnome! How ironic for the greatest wizard in Britain. Anyway, the speech and the ridiculous song were finally over, even if he had appreciated the Gryffindor twins’ Funeral March. 

Vlad stared at the suddenly full platters in front of him as his schoolmates were starting to fill their plates. Several things were coming to his mind, forming a list of unanswered questions and strange observations. However, he would think about that when he was away from the ambiance of the first evening in Hogwarts.

For now… Grub’s up!


	6. First Day

### Hogwarts—September 1991

_Hello, my favourite auntie!_

_Just out of sheer curiosity, how are the bets? A little birdie told me the stack of galleons in my vault is going to grow._

_In the meantime, Hogwarts is enjoyable, but there are some possible problems I see. What do you know of Neville Longbottom, Severus Snape and Qurinus Quirell? The first is a first-year student and the other two are professors, in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts respectively. Neville is the best comedian I have ever seen, Snape seems to hate me and seems to touch Dark Magic—even though as he’s a Slytherin, I can’t say it surprises me—and Quirell has an aura so dark it competes with Rasputin’s itself!_

_The Sorting Ceremony went smoothly. I made a strange ally in Hogwarts: André the Sorting Hat. I sent you the memory of our conversation in the vial. I would like your opinion on that._

_Dumby asked to see me tomorrow after the first lessons. I don’t need you, but I will give you news on that issue. However, he has said something intriguing during the feast. To say that a corridor is forbidden, with death threats usually makes people more inclined to check themselves, doesn’t it? I suspect something is hidden. And I overheard a strange conversation. Hagrid (the grounds Keeper) would have brought something from Gringott’s and it might be linked to that. I contacted Erkpric, but could you see with your informers if you please?_

_Take care,_

_Vlad._

_PS: Ravenclaw, my dear Aunt, House of Intelligence. And you said I was a little genius!_

_PPS: My made-in-ectoplasm-Voldy scar burned me. I have a hard time understanding why it reacts when the snake-face isn’t here… It usually only indicates me Dark Magic users._

Katya sighed in worry while reading the letter… She put down the text, which blurred as soon as she stopped touching it and quickly became unreadable. Her nephew had forgotten Snape’s legendary hatred for the Marauders. A very understandable hatred, but it could get Vlad into trouble. As for his scar, she was not the best one to answer him.

She looked at the time, then Hedwig who was sleeping on her seat’s back after the long journey. If she answered quickly enough, her kitten would be able to read her message first thing in the morning.

* * *

 

Vlad opened his eyes early, as usual. He briefly looked at his muggle alarm clock. 5:30. Too early to get up, but too late to get back to sleep. He opened the curtains of his four-poster bed and observed his new room-mate, Kevin Entwhistle. He hadn’t closed his curtains and some light snoring could be heard.

The young Russian had appreciated the freshness of that young brunet with hazel eyes filled with an endless curiosity and with a touching naiveness. Kevin didn’t try to ferret around Vlad’s belongings, even though ha had felt his gaze on his back several times when they were settling, contrary to Michael Corner and Terry Boot. Vlad’s teeth gritted at the memory of his other housemates looking over his shoulder while he was writing the letter to his aunt. Happily, both little prats didn’t know Russian.

Vlad was still lying down, thinking about last night. Ravenclaw House was as pleasant as Kevin was, be it the common room or the bedrooms. When they went through the portrait guarding the eagles’ nest, Vladmir fell under his new House’s spell.

Everything there reminded him of home. The common room, warm and industrious, was split into two distinct spaces, like its students were. The study half, comprised of a huge mezzanine with huge bookcases, was a place with a muted atmosphere. An impressive number spell books and parchment rolls covered half the walls. The Head Boy told them that these books were property of Ravenclaw, could not get out of the common room and ought to remain a secret. They were an heirloom, coming from a tradition as old as Hogwarts and that only concerned their House. Every single Ravenclaw student would give a book they would place in the House library during their last day in school. The oldest ones were written by Rowena Ravenclaw herself! As for the relaxation part of the common rooms, with its warn tones, it opened onto a large patio leading to the roofs. Another secret that the eagles guarded jealously.

There were the rooms, placed opposite the study room, split up into two floors. The ground floor was boys’ floor. The walkway to the rooms was a series of archways directly opening on the common room. The top floor, the girls’ one, was built in the same way, but the passageway was a balcony overhanging the common room at the same height as the study room. The Head Boy smiled when he announced that the boy could only get up if a girl wants them to with a knowing wink that made some first years blush.

As for the dormitory themselves—if you could talk about a dormitory for two students—they were small, but comfortable, with bathroom common to two bedrooms. Vlad really appreciated Ravenclaw House and, at least for now, he would not regret this choice.

Another glance at his alarm clock and he saw it was now 5:45. He slipped his hand under the pillow and got his wand out with a supple movement, and he waved it lightly.

**"Flame** ," he whispered.

A small spark appeared on the tip of his wand. He liked Eastern magic more than Western one… lest subtle, but undeniably more efficient. One spell, several options… Then it was all about willpower… Why would Europeans make their life so much harder by having fifteen different related spells? The last time he used that spell, he had started the chimney in her aunt’s drawing room… Thoughtful, Vlad took the spark in his hand and grabbed his clothes and disappeared in the bathroom.

A few minutes afterwards, he slipped out of the common rooms after having greeted some higher years students already buried in some arcane homework. The walk to the Great Hall was not very long as the prefects took the freedom to tell them about a not-so-secret passageway between Ravenclaw Tower and the Entrance Hall.

To his surprise, even though he would not let it be seen, a blond figure was casually leaning against the half-opened huge door.

"Draco," he greeted him with a nod.

"Vladmir," answered Draco, straightening elegantly to follow him into the Great Hall.

"None of your devoted lambs this morning?"

"None, and when I’ll meet you, it will always be that way."

"So you want a discreet alliance, don’t you?" Vlad summarised, amused.

"Exactly. A Malfoy can’t reasonably be friends with a Potter, too many questions would be asked," softly whispered the blond heir.

"I admit it," Vlad sneered, "but alliance also means necessity and quid pro quo, contrary to a friendship… Why would I need you?"

The blond boy seemed offended, while the Russian gave a faint smile. What would the Malfoy heir answer?

"An introduction into British nobility."

Clear, concise. Exactly what Vlad wanted. Except…

"And how would you do that if our alliance is secret?"

" _Discreet_ , not secret. We would display a cold but cordial relationship. Ravenclaws and Slytherins regularly work together, so it would not shock anyone, especially if we meet in the library. But what do you have to offer me?" answered Draco with a haughty pout which got on Vlad’s nerves.

He stared at Draco Malfoy for a long time, who stared at him in return, emerald green eyes versus stormy grey eyes, than Vlad smiled darkly as he slipped his hand into his pockets.

"Information…"

"Information?"

"It’s an excellent bartering system. But that is something will say when he will answer to your letter on my adoptive family, probably this morning, by the way."

Vlad mentally crossed his fingers. This letter was a pure bluff. It was make or break. And apparently, he touched a point, given Draco’s reaction. He was slightly paler and his lips were slightly more pinched together. He _had_ asked his father about him. They had had the same reaction…

Vlad tilted his head, amused, as Draco regained his neutral face. A manipulable Slytherin… surprising. Or, he relied too much on his name… so much more probable.

Then, finally, Draco nodded, declared that the exchange was valid, and turned his back on him to join the Slytherin table with his characteristic haughty nobility. Vlad turned to his table and sat next to the only other Ravenclaw, who was reading a book. He was the prefect that guided him the night before. As he saw him, he smiled and closed the thick Advanced Transfiguration volume.

"It’s rare to see a first year already up at this time of day for the first lessons."

"I don’t sleep that much," Vlad smiled. "The early bird catches the worm."

"Exactly! I’m William Bradley, Head Boy, but you already know that," smiled the young man.

"Vladmir Kemenov. Pleased to meet you."

"So am I. You have a very strong accent, but a perfect English… Why aren’t you in Durmstrang?"

"I am born English and my parents went to Hogwarts. My aunt thought it was more logical to study here."

"All schools have pros and cons, you’ll find things in Hogwarts you wouldn’t in Durmstrang, and vice versa," said Bradley. "May I ask you a tactless question?"

"You may," Vlad answered, intrigued by the suddenly embarrassed look of the Head Boy.

"Why don’t you bear your birth name?"

A sincere smile stretched his lips. Oh yes! He definitely liked Ravenclaw.

"The whole House knows, don’t they?"

"Nearly, and so should the snakes, as observant as they are. But Hufflepuffs… They don’t really care about other houses and Gryffindors are a little too… narrow-minded to care. However, it’s true the pictures of you in the books are far from the truth."

"I would have chosen some other term for Gryffindors, but you are right: I am not called Harry Potter thus I am _not_ Harry Potter. To say the truth, my aunt took me in after my parents died and adopted me, thus the name and official nationality. As for these pseudo-biographers… I don’t wear glasses thanks to a myopia potion. I don’t have my father’s tuft because I have long hair. I have my mother’s eyes, but green is not that uncommon, so they haven’t caught attention. As for my scar, not observant people generally see this one…" Vladmir said while caressing the fine whitish swollen scar on his left cheekbone.

The Head Boy agreed without wanting to know more. He was indeed not the carbon copy of his father the magical British world expected to see, but the resemblance was striking for who knew his parents. But even more importantly… By the evening, everyone would know. Yes, he was Harry Potter. By the eagles’ policy was, apparently, to let him be. The Slytherins… he would see, but with Malfoy on his side, they wouldn’t annoy him. Hufflepuffs being… well, Hufflepuffs, they wouldn’t either. On the other hand, Gryffindors… Something told him some of them wouldn’t let him have peace.

"Mr Potter, the Headmaster would like to remind you of your interview with him tonight."

Talking about Gryffindor… Vlad sighed, without turning and served himself a pumpkin juice before getting some scrambled eggs, observing the wide-opened eyes of Bradley as he ignored the professor behind him.

"Mr Potter!" the dry voice behind him fulminate.

"Come on Minerva," a thin voice exclaimed, "this young man bears the name Kemenov."

Well! Professor Flitwick arrived just in time, Vlad thought when he cared to turn to face the two adults. He smiled at the small professor before looking glacially at the Head of House Gryffindor.

"I am indeed called Vladmir Kemenov, madam, and not Harry Potter."

"Your parents…"

"My parents, madam, are dead, and even if I have the utmost respect for them, my aunt raised me and I bear her name with pride. I would beg you to respect that name."

Minerva McGonagall’s eyes blazed in anger, but Professor Flitwick put an appeasing hand on her arm and looked at his student.

"Mr Kemenov, don’t forget to see professor Dumbledore after the lessons. I will wait for you there to allow you entrance to the office. Here is your timetable. You end the lessons at 4, so I will wait at around 4:30."

"Thank you professor," Vlad responded, looking at the paper while Bradley was gifted with a huge pile to distribute, muttering on the disadvantages of being a prefect. Bradley immediately put the impressive pile next to him and resumed his breakfast while waiting for the main bulk of Ravenclaws, which shouldn’t take long to arrive, according to him.

McGonagall glared at Vlad a last time and turned around with pinched lips. Flitwick smiled at him with a sorry look before following her, crossing the path of Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley.

"Hey Vlad," the read-headed boy apologised and gently tapped his shoulder, "I’m sorry for last night, I often speak too fast. And you’re a Ravenclaw, thus not a Death-Eater!"

An eyebrow raised, Vlad watched him go towards the Gryffindor table without waiting for an answer to sit next to two red-headed carbon copies, surely some other Weasleys. What drug did this griffin take? And what was this shitty stereotype? A Death-Eater had to be in Slytherin?

"He’s nice, even if he can be a little obtuse," Neville timidly smiled, cutting him in his thoughts.

"Hello Nev. Had a good night?"

"Good, and you? How are the eagles, not too studious?"

"Some are," Vlad laughed, pointing at some seven-year students who were head-deep in their books. "Tell me, I didn’t see you in Gryffindor, more like Hufflepuff."

Neville gave a faint smile when he saw Vladmir’s gaze turn not to the badger’s table, but to the snakes’.

"The Sorting Hat hesitated," he mumbled while shaking his head, "then, after some talking, he chose Gryffindor."

Yeah, right… The Sorting Hat chose, Vladmir silently laughed, pensively looking at the Gryffindor table. The tables had slowly filled up and the prefects were distributing the timetables.

"I gotta go,"» blushed Neville, pointing at Ron who was calling him out loud, papers in his hand and ignoring the exasperated looks of people around him.

Vlad greeted him and looked up to see the first morning mail owls enter through the magical windows. He watched carefully the Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy, as an eagle owl had dropped a letter and a small packet in front of him. The blond boy turned pale when he read, then raised his head to cross Vlad’s gaze. The Russian smiled and raised his pumpkin juice glass in an ironic salute.

A few moments later, Vladmir laughed when he saw a snowy owl arrive late and land on his shoulder with a tired hooting. Vlad patted Hedwig, surprised she had done the journey to Saint Petersburg and back in one night and gave her a bit of toast before grabbing his letter.

_My Kitten,_

_I very much hope I’m your favourite aunt. After all, I’m the only one!_

_"Dumby"? You nicknamed Albus Dumbledore "Dumby"? Sergei roared with laughter when he heard that and told me that with those eccentric outfit of his, his beard and this nickname, he was thinking about a garden gnome! When we talk about this old fool since yesterday, he’s laughing again… You both have a twisted mind._

_As for serious things, I have to check on all these people. Only know that you know Severus Snape, but in your dad’s memories, he’s Snivellus… He’s a brilliant Potions’ Master, but he might treat you like an enemy. If there’s a problem you know what to do._

_For your scar, directly ask Grigori or Praskovia. They are the bast placed to answer you._

_As for the Sorting Hat, I don’t know what to think. It’s a very powerful artefact created by the founders. The legend says it is Godric’s hat, but it always had an eccentric mind of its own. And André… This name doesn’t sound very English, more like French, and not from the founder’s time… You should see for yourself…_

_Many kisses my boy,_

_Your favourite aunt._

_PS: The odds against Slytherin were 4 to 1. Ravenclaw came second with 2.4 to 1. I transferred all your benefits to your student account. Next time the bets are open, I want to have my share!_

Vlad sighed and looked up to the Head table, crossing a dark and heinous gaze. He didn’t feel he would like that Potions’ professor.

* * *

 

Vlad was leaning against the wall, his first day tired him more than he had thought it could.

By the Ancestors! The Professors knew nothing in that school! He had started with Defence Against the Dark Arts. His favourite subject… at least, at home. But Quirell was not comparable to Nikolaï and would have made him laugh. His lecture on vampires, in a room stinking of garlic, with a fearful and stammering professor… Upsetting and completely fictitious. Blimey, his magical defence tutor was a vampire and did not fear garlic, faith potions, and least of all muggle holy water! In short, this lesson would be a complete disaster.

Then he had Transfiguration… Vlad thought he shouldn’t have antagonised her on the first day. She had looked daggers at him and took 5 points from Ravenclaw because he had been distracted by his classmate… The Gryffindor Head took a dislike at him and he had to be very careful to not have a problem with her all year. Stubborn hung-up old woman!

History of Magic was a Joke. A big Joke with a capital J! A ghost professor would be alright, it’s not because he is dead that he is boring. Binns however… A monotonous voice, an uninteresting descriptive monologue, and only one study theme all year: goblins… Vladmir wanted to bang his head on the walls. Goblin Wars were only a small part of the Magical History, but according to third years, it was nearly the only thing they learned in Hogwarts.

The last lesson was the only interesting and constructive one: Herbology. Also the only lesson they shared with Gryffindors. Vlad had met with Neville and Ronald again, and while he had been with Kevin Entwhistle during the other lessons, he had abandoned his room-mate to be with the Longbottom heir. A good choice, especially with his advanced knowledge in Herbology.

Vlad sighed. Some said the British wizards were hung-up and retrograde. Seeing the magical education they received, the prejudice could only have a base of truth. How can one be king to a goblin when a dead man taught you to fear them? Why trust a vampire when students were taught it was only a blood-thirsty monster?

"Mr Kemenov, you are already there?"

Vladmir jumped with surprise and looked at his Charms professor. He didn’t hear him coming… He gave a faint smile to the little goblin, refraining from telling him that the sooner the torture started, the sooner it would finish… But Flitwick felt his apprehension and patted his forearm—the only accessible part to his small height—as a sign of comfort and support.

"Come on, my boy, the Headmaster doesn’t bite. Do you want me to come with you?"

"Thank you Professor, but I doubt your presence will change anything to this interview."

"As you wish, but don’t hesitate to see me afterwards. I think the prefects have told you I’m at my office up until dinner each day…"

"Thank you Professor," Vlad responded.

Flitwick looked at him with a sharp gaze, undeniably inherited from his goblin ancestry, which reminded Vlad of his last time in Gringott’s. Then, apparently judging his student was ready, Flitwick turned to the Gargoyle.

"Sugar Quill."

The Gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s Office’s entry slowly pivoted, revealing a spiral staircase. Vlad slowly inhaled and closed his eyes a fraction of a second, making up a glacial face before starting to walk up the stairs.

He left behind a thoughtful and wary goblin. So the young Potter was wearing masks… Why, in the name of Merlin and all pagan gods, would Vladmir Kemenov wear his death mask for a simple interview with the Headmaster?


	7. Interviews

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, as I might not have been until now:  
>  _italics is for Parsletongue or memories/letters_  
>  **bold is for Russian**  
>  §This new notation is for Gobbledegook§
> 
> I'll try to be consistent throughout the story.
> 
> But anyway: enjoy!

Vlad had just entered a large warm office. Observing his surroundings, he immediately saw the phoenix on a wardrobe next to André. To say the truth, if Vlad weren’t in front of Hogwarts’ Headmaster, he would have burst out laughing seeing a bird and a hat winking at him. To see the antique relic wriggling to make a sign to him, helped by a ball of feathers was a rare and delicious scene. After all, it was neither a simple bird, nor a customary hat…

The young Russian continued to look around the place. Large bookcases filled with probably incredibly valuable and rare spell-books. Dozens of motley magical artefacts, including dark magic detectors, aura or enemy looking-glasses… A huge desk on a dais that took patina and was overfilled with various documents. Desk behind which a man lorded it. Albus Dumbledore.

Hand crossed under his chin, the old mage was watching him with benevolence, his blue eyes sparkling with gentleness. A benevolence that could have convinced him if he had not felt a presence slither in his mind as soon as his eyes met the older one’s.

Vlad mentally locked his mind-books and watched as one of them tried to bite a too ferrety Albus Dumbledore. The thick leather missed him by an inch and got hanged to the venerable white beard, snatching a mental painful cry from the mage. Vlad heard an amused laugh and coo. He refrained from smiling, despite his own amusement. Two rowdy characters were certainly following the old man in his head…

“You asked to see me, Headmaster”, Vladmir simply said.

“Yes Harry, have a seat, dear.”

Vlad let out no amusement, but anger. Cold, and lightning fast. One that blew out all laughter. He straightened up some more and raised up his chin. His eyes went to a green like the Avada while he looked daggers at Dumbledore.

“First off, Mr Dumbledore, we barely know each other. Thus I would rather have you keep a respectable attitude towards me. And just who do you think you are? You are head of several magical institutions, but as far as I know, you have no power over name registration. I am called Vladmir Kemenov. KEMENOV. And last of all, no thank you, I’m fine standing there.”

Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and Headmaster of Hogwarts stayed a fraction of a second open-mouthed. He had been expecting a lost and fascinated little boy, before believing lost after Hagrid told him he had vanished. Then, he saw a confident child, raised in he wizarding world of Eastern European countries, famous for their ‘polar mages’ and bearer of an unknown name. He had entered in his office as a perfect representative of that community.

The cold and haughty face, the one who he thought as Harry Potter, James and Lily’s little newborn, was here, in front of him and put him back into his place with an eloquence that might have been form one of his enemies! A polar cold seemed to fill the office, but Dumbledore calmed himself down and only gently smiled at him, his eyes sparkling once more under his half-moon glasses. Too much was put forward to make him take a stand.

“Well, I beg your pardon, Mr Kemenov. You look so much like your father I feel like I have known you for a long time… But you have your mother’s eyes.”

Vlad didn’t answer him, his eyes having taken once again this metallic and inhuman tint that intrigued and terrified Dumbledore. He couldn’t resist brushing against his white beard, remembering the psychological pain of the aggression. A shiver spiked through his spine, but he made an effort to keep his grand-father-face. How many people had he moved and encouraged to confess with his particular gaze? He could not recall. Knowing the force of his eyes, Hogwarts’ Headmaster force himself to smile to the polar mage in front of him, pushing back his unease with his perfect mastery of Mind Arts.

In front of him, Vladmir was keeping his death face, trying his best to ignore the two rowdy characters in complete madness behind the famous mage. The venerable Sorting Hat and the noble phoenix were trying to catch his attention, André waving his cap while Fawkes was flapping his wings as silently as possible.

‘Stop moving around you two’, silently prayed Vladmir while opening his mind to the Sorting Hat.

“I have known you since you were a child, Mr Kemenov. Your parents loved you dearly. I am sure you…” Dumbledore started.

‘Be careful Vlad, he has something…’

“Would like to know them more. I can tell you about their school years if you want.”

‘… up his sleeve if you resist!’ André exclaimed.

“I thank you Headmaster, but I already know all I need to know on my parents. And you say you have known me since I was a child?”

‘Thanks André, I fear the worst.’

“Yes my boy. To say the truth, Mr Kemenov, I also am your magical guardian.”

“…”

“Mr Kemenov?”

Albus Dumbledore immediately stopped being jubilant after his announcement, worried about the boy’s abnormal reaction. Anybody in this school should have been flattered to be the ward of a mage as renowned as he was. Then why by Merlin Harry Potter seemed so furious?

An overwhelming silence filled the office. If Vladmir’s face was still frozen, two things made him particularly frightening. His eyes literally glowed with fury and his magic was freezing the air in the office. He was _not_ his guardian. He knew that. Since he was 4. Since his first time at Gringott’s.

The goblin, sat at his desk, was frowning.

“Why do you say that Albus Dumbledore is the magical guardian of my nephew?”

If the wince of the magical creature was unnoticeable for all humans, the vampire negligibly leaning against the back wall saw it and his smile uncovered two pointy canines. Sergei had known the Kemenovs for a long time and protected Katya and Vlad when they went out of the Den. He was also their friends however, which was why he was in this office.

“Don’t worry Forge Master, Lady Kemenov is not angry with you but with this Englishman, Dumbledore.”

Vladmir, from the top of his four years of age, was looking with fascination the being in front of him, lost in his contemplation of the two black well-like eyes of the goblin. Far from the preoccupations of Katya who had straightened up to pace up and down the office carpeting with fury.

“The Wizengamot declared the day after the death of James Charlus Potter and Lillian Rose Evans-Potter that Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was to be the magical guardian of Harry James Potter, also known now as Vladmir Vassilievitch Kemenov,” responded the goblin with an anxious voice, looking at the furious young woman.

“The day after?” Katya growled. “The day after _? They didn’t even wait his parents were buried to_ _…_ _”_

“ _Auntie? Hey Auntie?”_

_Katya_ _lowered her eyes on her nephew that was grabbing her robe to catch her attention. She bent down to grab him in her arms and raise him to directly face him._

“ _Yes kitty?”_

“ _Why does the kind little man says a man I don’t know is you?”_

_A surprised hiccup from behind the desk made the vampire in the shadows smile. The goblin seemed paralysed by the ‘kind man’ designation._

“ _Because a man said he was me to watch you.”_

“ _Why does he want to watch me?”_

_Katya made a sad smile and caressed the lighting bolt on her nephew’s forehead._

“ _Because of the bad man that made daddy and mummy go?”_

_The question, said with such a touching naiveness, made the goblin frown._

“ _Excuse me Lady Kemenov, but did Lord Potter leave a will?”_

_Katya pivoted_ _to face the goblin, her eyes sparkling with anger. She was going to answer when Vlad squirmed to get down. She put him down before getting her attention back on the magical creature._

“ _I am surprised you asked that, Master Gorkolk. James left his will one year before he died at Gringott’s England. Lily did the same.”_

“ _Sir, why did my daddy leave a widd?”_

_The goblin smiled, uncovering row a pointy teeth that didn’t frighten the small boy standing up next to him. The young Russian tilted his head, curious._

“ _A will my boy,” the goblin corrected him._

“ _Wid… Wid… Will…”_

_A strange glow went through the eyes of Gorkolk as he congratulated him with a nod._

“ _Your daddy left a will to protect his family and wares and give his last wishes before going.”_

_The young Vladmir nodded with seriousness._

“ _Then why didn’t I have his last words?”_

_The goblin frowned once more and his face became as cold as an ice statue as he raised himself to have his face at the same level as the child’s_

“ _As_ _Director of Gringott’s Russia, I can assure you on my honour that nobody ever had the will of James Potter or Lily Evans-Potter in their hands.”_

_Vladmir nodded with seriousness, knowing even with his young age that something important had happened, even if he didn’t understand what. Gorkolk turned to face Katya and Sergei._

“ _I have to contact the English goblin Seigneur. If this will actually exists, there has been a huge irregularity in the succession of the Potter vaults.”_

“You are not my magical guardian,” growled Vladmir, getting out of his memories, a strange noise coming from deep in his chest. “I have been adopted before the magical Russian laws. Katya Kemenov is my one and only guardian before the law and Merlin.”

“No my boy,” Dumbledore smiled with a satisfied glow in the gaze that rapidly disappeared. “She may be your legal guardian, but I am your magical guardian. I reassure you, Mr Kemenov, I only want you good, your greater good.”

Vladmir kept back the rage that inhabited him when he heard him butcher once more his parents’ last wishes. Because the goblins had finally found James Potter’s will. Not opened. Hidden by a man. Hidden by Albus Dumbledore. And his magical guardian, by the will of his parents, was Katya.

Glacial, he only slowly nodded and slightly straightened up.

“Is that all, Headmaster?” he asked with a lifeless voice.

“Yes my boy, but I think we will have to meet regularly. I have to teach you several things regarding your inheritance… Have a good night.”

“I am not your boy…”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I am _not_ your boy…”

The satisfied glow in Albus Dumbledore’s eyes became stronger as they sparkled with joy.

“My dear Vladmir, we will meet regularly, and I think that as a gaurdian, I have the right to address you with familiarity…”

Vladmir didn’t answer and only looked at him. His eyes were suddenly void of any light, only shinning with this metallic green as his face was still frozen and white as snow. Slowly, he looked away from the Headmaster and went out of the office, as silent as death.

He ignored Dumbledore, pale behind his desk,  watching hi go silently before serving himself a glass of Fire Whiskey, which he gulped in one go.

He ignored the students he passed by to return to his common room, muttering behind him, afraid.

He ignored Kevin’s call as he entered through the portrait guarding the Ravenclaw entry to go to his room.

“Mr Kemenov…”

Vlad stopped his walk at the sound of the thin but firm voice before pivoting to face his Head of House.

Head of House who kept an impassive expression despite the absence of life in the face of his new student. The interview visibly hadn’t been good… Flitwick watched the wide-open pupils and the metallic green and tilted his head, taking a risky bet.

§I hope you haven’t killed the Headmaster, Mr Kemenov.§

Vladmir tilted his head and his eyes slowly took their natural colour. The goblin gave a satisfied smile. Surprising… very surprising.

§No, Forge Master.§

“Follow me…”

In the silence of the common room, Vladmir followed the goblin who went to his office door. On a sign of his Head of House, I sat down and looked at the little man messing around him, successively pointing his wand at the  paintings, walls and windows. The portraits froze and became matter while the stones briefly glowed. Then Flitwick sat down in a seat with thick, colourful cushions that allowed him to be as high as the other one was.

They kept silent a few minutes, Vladmir keeping his eyes on the Charms professor. Flitwick knew that few were the students that could sustain his gaze. He had inherited the completely black eyes of the goblins, but the young Russian didn’t seem to be bothered about that.

“I have just cast silencing spells to keep Albus from listening this conversation,” the little man started. “And I swear that nothing that nothing said or done here tonight will be revealed by me.”

Vladmir’s face relaxed completely with the magical oath and he sighed while  snuggling up in the deep seat he was sitting in. The attitude of a child that reminded that the young by was only 11, despite his usual attitude.

“Few wizards know Gobbeldegook, Mr Kemenov,” Flitwick started. “But do you also know the Three Faces?”

“A life face for your family you will have  
A perfect face for society you will display  
A death face for enemies you will wear.  
Three Faces you will be and ours you will protect.”

“Mr Kemenov, who initiated you?” Flitwick asked.

Goblins talked about initiation to define the teaching of morals and customs of the magical world as globally as possible to children. Only an initiated human could know the Three Faces poem.

“The Siberian Seigneur Gorkolk.”

“A prestigious name for an as prestigious initiated.”

“As is yours Forge Master.”

“Let us stop with the traditional politeness my boy. Are you linked to Katya Kemenov?”

“She’s my aunt.”

A sincere smile appeared on the goblin’s face as he  settled in to his cushions.

“Welcome to Hogwarts, Prince of the Mirage Court.”

Vladmir rose himself up a little, frowning, before remembering the magical oath. Nothing would get out of this office. But ho w did he know?

“I am Niresca’s nephew and I belonged to the English Court before it was disbanded after the last war”, Flitwick answered his silent question. “Katya Annapovna Kemenov was just starting to make a name for herself in Russia when the English Court disappeared.”

Vladmir smiled.  Niresca was a famous goblin in Russia, thanks to her talents as money launderer. Wherever the galleons came from, she always managed to make them disappear before reintroducing them in the market perfectly legally. An excellent visiting card, as was the stylistic tattoo his professor had just showed him as the base of his nape.

The green eyes met the black gaze of the goblin, who crossed his hands gravely.

“Mr Kemenov. What happened with the Headmaster?”

Flitwick didn’t know if Vladmir would tell him, despite all the precautions he had taken and proofs of good faith he had showed. The problem between the Headmaster and the young Russian seemed far further than what would have been usual professor-student relations. To his great surprise, Vladmir smiled sardonically,  even though his eyes kept their furious look.

“He says he is my magical guardian,” he spit out.

“I doubt your parents have put Albus Dumbledore as magical guardian. Even if I didn’t really know them, I knew they didn’t trust him as much…” Flitwick tempered.

“You are right. A man named Sirius Black was my godfather and magical guardian. As he is in prison, his rights are void, thanks Merlin. Katya was the second one called on my parents’ will.”

“Then how can the Headmaster…”

Vladmir’s smile became glacial.

“By blocking the wills’ readings. He then asked for my magical guardianship and gave the legal guardianship to my muggle aunt.”

“I don’t understand. Why didn’t he notice you disappeared?”

“I have never been at Petunia Evans’ and she never knew he had abandoned me on her steps. And a Muggle saying that says ‘No news is good news’. According to Katya, she hates magic. So she wouldn’t have kept any contact with the magical world, and even less so with Dumbledore. That’s why he never worried.”

Flitwick kept an impassive face, but he was raging inside of himself. He admired Albus Dumbledore, whom he considered a great man and an excellent Headmaster. But this interference in the life of young Harry Potter—or rather Vlad Kemenov—was unacceptable. Then his goblin mind suddenly noticed an… important detail.

“A magical guardian has access to the vaults, not receiving your account balances should have planted an idea into his head.”

“Exactly. Except that, with Gringott’s accord, he still receives my account balances and acts with my authorisation on them. The only regular withdrawal he does is made in the name of Vernon Dursley.”

“A pension?”

“Probably. Officially, it is sent. In reality, the money lands into my student account, not linked to the Potter vaults.”

Professor Flitwick was slowly nodding, understanding the anger of Clan Kemenov. Their rancour to the Headmaster was justified. Legally, a will went before the wishes of any moral institutions or person like Albus Dumbledore. The Potter family’s fundamental rights had been violated in the worst way possible. But Katya and Vladmir Kemenov had admirably trapped the Headmaster in his own game. Dumbledore thought he was all-powerful. He had no weight in the balance in reality.

After a few minutes, Vladmir took his leave and went back to his room. Exhausted, he let himself fall on his bed and a small silvery snake slipped under his shirt, comforting him with little tickles on his  ribs.

“ _Sasha… have you been quiet?_ ”

“ _As always_ ,” the snake answered, getting out of the neck of his shirt to curl around his throat. “ _You’re angry._ ”

“ _Dumbl_ _e_ _dore…_ ” Vladmir only said.

“ _If you let me bite him, that would make it easier for you._ ”

“ _I’ll think about it,_ ” he smiled.

“Blimey!”

Vladmir quickly turned his head, meeting the wide-open eyes of Kevin by his small ice viper.

“By Merlin’s underpants, you are a Parsletongue!”

Vladmir rose up, weary, his wand ready near his hand if his room-mate made any sign of trying to gather Ravenclaws. After all, didn’t the English wizards and witches associate Parsletongue with Dark Mages?

Kevin’s hazel eyes sparkled as he jumped in Vlad’s bed to look at him with hope and curiosity.

“Can you teach me?”

Vladmir relaxed and laughed out loud, followed by Sasha. He _loved_ his House.


	8. Hatred and mutual aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ravenclaws meet Severus Snape, and Vlad starts to weave links with some Slytherins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notations:  
>  _Parsletongue_ or _memories/letters_  
>  **Russian**  
>  §Gobbledegook§
> 
> I'll try to be consistent throughout the story.
> 
> But anyway: enjoy!

Kevin was grumbling. Since breakfast. Under the sympathetic looks of the other years. Why? Four hours of Potions to start on Wednesday morning. The echoes of the lessons given by Severus Snape had rapidly gone through the whole school since Monday at lunch, following the common Gryffindor and Slytherin lesson.

“Bradley told me Snape is appalling!” the small Ravenclaw wallowed in self-pity, head on the wooden table.

Vladmir, amused, calmly drank his glass of kompot. To his great joy, he had discovered that, if he asked, he could have what he wanted for breakfast. And he definitely didn’t like traditional English pumpkin juice, but rather the Russian sweet drink.

“Stop complaining,” Vlad smiled. “Apparently, he’s less bad with us eaglets”

“Not sure,” Michael Corner mumbled. “With you in our class, he’s gonna have a field day.”

Vlad frowned, promising himself to work thoroughly to have good grades in Potions as Kevin continued lamenting. Beside them, Terry Boot grimaced, successively looking at the two boys. Happily, they kept cordial links, despite the letter incident on the first night.

“Why do you worry? To my knowledge I have never met that man.”

Michael looked at him sceptically, ignoring the less-than-discreet nudge from Terry.

“The hatred between your father and Snape was legendary, and I swear some still talk about it. Rumours say that he might transfer that hatred on you. Didn’t you know?”

“I did,” Vlad answered succinctly, before the surprised murmurs caught the attention of the four first-year students.

“Seriously, they made it?” Padma Patil exclaimed.

“Yeah, but the vault was empty,” the boy next to her, Roger Davies, sighed. He was a third-year student who was hitting on her shamelessly.

“What’s happening?” asked Kevin, raising his head, his obsessive curiosity overwhelming his self-pity. In just three days, his thirst for knowledge had become legendary between first-years and made everybody laugh.

“Gringott’s was broken into!” Lisa Turpin exclaimed, holding the Daily Prophet to him.

Vlad watched with a disgusted pout the journal go from hand to hand. This rag didn’t have any purpose, except to spread the propaganda of the English Ministry. Talking about Gringott’s… He distractedly touched his pocket, making sure the letter he had received that morning was still there. Erkpric, one of his goblin friends working in the bank had rapidly responded to his request for information… Vladmir gave a discreet smile when he thought about the famous bank. Strangely, their sacrosanct privacy policy was very lax when the Mirage Court asked them for help. But that was something wizards and witches didn’t know. After all, they had remembered only two things about goblins: wars and money… while forgetting about their ancient alliances… like the Mirage Court. It didn’t turn their back to them…

Vlad then transferred his attention to Dumbledore who was reading the Prophet attentively. A nervous twitch was shaking his eyebrow. The Headmaster seemed all the while relieved and worried, which intrigued Vlad immediately. He didn’t have time to think further because his house-mates rose to their feet. One of the rules of Ravenclaw was punctuality. Preferably very early…

Pushing his plate back, he grabbed his school bag and traversed the hall next to Kevin, dodging the pupils who were late for breakfast.

“Hey Vlad!”

Vlad turned to see a blond with slicked back hair go near him, leaving behind with a brio that came out of habit the two built like a tank guys whose name Vlad didn’t try to memorise. As soon as he was in front of them that Vlad saw him stare contemptuously at Kevin.

“Good morning Draco,” he greeted him with indifference. “Let me remind you of my warning about certain words within my earning range.”

Draco rose a surprised eyebrow before nodding. He remembered the mistake he made at the start of the year.

“I didn’t intend to be rude with your friends,” the Pure-blood retorted. “After class, we will work in the library. Would you join us?”

“Us?” Vlad noted, giving a mocking look, to the two idiots that were hurrying to join them.

“They wouldn’t even dare set foot in a library,” Draco sniggered in such a way that only Vlad could hear him. “To see so many books would already be too much for their poor brain. They would be sick.”

“Alright then, I will be there at around 5 pm,” Vlad smiled before greeting him with a nod.

The two pudding-heads had finally joined them and Malfoy left, the two gorillas trotting behind them.

“Who is this?” Kevin asked softly.

“A Malfoy. He is the heir if a great Pure-blood family.”

“I have a hard time getting used to this story of blood purity,” he grumbled before shrugging. “Anyway, he’s cute with his poker up his arse!”

“Malfoy? Cute?” Vladmir laughed out loud. “I think he wouldn’t believe it if he heard you.”

“Why, it’s a compliment.”

“Don’t worry,” Vlad reassured him while traversing the Entrance Hall to get to the stairs. “It’s just that he would probably tell you something along the lines of ‘A Malfoy is not cute, he has the beauty and grace necessary to his rank.’”

“Isn’t that a bit… bombastic?”

“See the Pure-bloods like the English nobility. Uptight and retrograde. As a matter of fact, Malfoy are a noble house and their Lord title is also valid in the Muggle world.”

Kevin open his eyes wide under the surprise and dropped his bag in front of a dark door. They scanned the corridor. The place was gloomy, only lit up with torches. Not the tiniest sign of decoration, just dark and damp stones. There weren’t even portraits in this corridor.

“And you are friend with one of these nobles?” Kevin finally asked, getting him out of his contemplation.

“If you didn’t already understand,” Terry smiled as he let himself fall to the ground, “our dear Vlad here is also part of the English nobility. It’s not surprising he made contact with Malfoy, even if I would not say they were friends.”

As was planned, all Ravenclaws were arrived very early, but no Hufflepuff was there yet. Kevin looked at them all with big round eyes. He was the only Muggle-born amongst the first years in Ravenclaw and his reactions filled with wonder were a source of amusement for everyone.

“Wonderful! So you have an etiquette and all that?”

“Yes,” Padma Patil smiled, “but don’t worry Kevin, there are books to learn about the principles of wizarding education. And we can all help you.”

“So the pure-bloods are, for the most part, nobles?” Kevin asked, thoughtful.

“No, not all of them. I am pure-blood but I have no title, and neither has Terry. And some Half-blood are nobles, as Vlad is.”

Kevin opened his mouth to ask for more, but the door opened with a sinister creak. They all got up to enter silently.

In the classroom, no teacher was waiting for them. Despite the barred basement windows, the light was pale and left the room with a vaulted ceiling in penumbra. Some dark tables for two with high stools filled the centre while the walls were covered by dozens of shelves. Lots of flasks and pots with carefully labelled contents were aligned on them, many with an unappealing aspect. And in the sole ray of light in the room, a large wooden desk was placed on a small dais, accompanied by a blackboard on the wall.

Vladmir put down his bag on a table in the middle of the room and rose an eyebrow when he saw Kevin settle down near him.

“Kev… for this lesson, you might want to leave me alone.”

“Because of what Terry said at breakfast? I cannot care less!”

All Ravenclaws looked at the stubborn little brunet who was sitting down next to Vladmir as the Hufflepuffs were finally arriving, precisely at the moment when the bell rang the start of the lessons. The door suddenly slammed shut behind a man that seemed particularly menacing. He went through the room, his robes flying around him when he turned to face his pupils. The Ravenclaws had stood up when he arrived, quickly followed by the Hufflepuffs.

Severus Snape took the time to observe his students, several of them shivering because of his dark gaze. Then, finally, he briefly stopped on Vladmir. The young Russian felt the eyes of the Potions professor dwell on his scar on his cheek, then stare at the scar on his bare forehead.

“There will be no wand waving or silly incantations in this class,” he announced with a clear and cold voice. “Potions are a subtle art that necessitate a perfect knowledge of the ingredients, as such I doubt you will perceive all of its beauty and finesse. However, I expect some of you will get over the level of an impotent flobberworm that characterises the dunderheads that I have to teach.”

Vlad noted that the speech was different from the one he served the Gryffindors. However, he was relatively gifted for insults. Besides him, Kevin seemed literally terrified by the teacher and his speech.

“Mr Potter, our new celebrity… I would have thought you would be sorted into Gryffindor like your idiot of a father, but maybe your mother managed to gift you with some of her genes…”

Vlad hesitated a few seconds and rose his hand to speak. He suddenly felt very weary…

“Yes, Mr Potter?”

He was spitting his name vehemently, and Vladmir guessed it would _not_ get better.

“I am sorry sir, but I am not called Potter.”

“You are the son of James Potter, so you are a Potter by right of blood!”

Vladmir sighed and shook his head. The man was as stubborn as McGonagall, and he didn’t want to have that talk again.

“With all due respect sir, I have to tell you that my name is Vladmir Kemenov. James Potter is indeed my father, but I was adopted.”

“Detention, Mr Potter, and 10 points will be taken from Ravenclaw for answering a teacher back!”

Vladmir fell silent and kept a neutral face as he looked at the heinous but satisfied face of Severus Snape. Behind him, the Ravenclaws stayed stoic while the Hufflepuffs were murmuring, incurring the wrath if the Potions Master.

The rest of the fours hours of the lesson were a slaughter. Nothing he did satisfied his teacher and Kevin, besides him, was also suffering his wrath. As he was Muggle-born, he had never cut any ingredient and he was regularly snubbed because it affected his potion, even with Vald’s help.

The young Russian was  clenching his teeth, suffering the remarks. Snape was turning around him like a vulture, spying on his every gesture. He knew perfectly that the tiniest word or the tiniest mistake would make the kind of heinous bat that was his teacher attack him. Therefore, he kept as much as was possible a perfect attitude and potion.

Anyhow, the lesson finished on 80 points from Ravenclaw and 30 points from Hufflepuff, with a very angry Vladmir, supported by his outraged schoolmates.

The arrival of the small group of first years in the Great Hall for lunch was duly expected by the other eagles. The blue hourglass had drastically  emptied itself, provoking a general protest in their House. Patiently, the new students told what happened in the Potions lesson in the slightest details.

Reactions burst out. Until then, the Potions professor had spared their House, but everything had changed with the arrival of Vladmir. To the Russian’s surprise, he was not reproached anything. To the contrary, his House assured him its support in proposing a meeting in the evening, just before the Astronomy class. They would not let their eaglets—the kind nickname Ravenclaws gave to their first-years—be targetted by the bat in the Dungeons.

It is this nicely surprised that Vlad ate rapidly before getting out to benefit from the last specks of heat of September and stay alone a bit. It is then that, sat on a bench in one of the exterior courtyards of the castle, he thought that this day would definitely be the worst of the week. After Potions, Transfiguration.

Smiling, Vladmir got Erkprick’s letter out and opened Gringott’s seal.

Lord Potter and Kemenov Heir,

It is an honour to hear from a prince as powerful as you are. I also thank you for your offer, which was obviously accepted. It will be claimed in right time, as for all Goblin debts.

I want to tell you that, even though you should know by the time you receive this letter, vault number 713 was broken into in the evening. It is the vault that was visited by Rubeus Hagrid on 31 July. I could not know what was in that vault, as it doesn’t appear in the Gringott’s Archives, in accordance with our privacy code. However, this vault belongs to Albus Dumbledore.

Yours sincerely,

Erkprick BlackClan, Gringott’s Contact Bureau.

Vlad closed his eyes, thoughtful. He was certain that what had been in Gringott’s was now in Hogwarts, on the third floor. But what could it be for someone to risk their life and their family’s by getting the Goblins on their back?

“Aren’t you cold?”

“I’m from Northern Russian, Nev. It’s as hot as in summer for me,” Vlad smiled without opening his eyes.

“Is it the Potions lesson that made you this angry?”

Vlad opened his eyes to look at the Gryffindor, calmly leaning against the wall. He was calmly staring at the lake in the background. Very far from the usual face of anguished boy he was reserving to the other inhabitants of the castle. He was also the only one to perceive his feelings despite his Life mask.

“Are you an empath?” Vlad sighed.

Neville had an amused smile when the looked at the Russian and winked.

“Oh shit!”

Vladmir got a bust of laughter from his commentary, so contagious that he could not refrain from laughing with Neville. They stayed silent a few minutes afterwards, both of them savouring the calm of the little courtyard and the sun.

“You know Vlad, Snape can’t be worse than with Gryffindors. But I have heard about your meeting this evening. Contrary to us, you will not let him do what he wants. I hope Flitwick will understand.”

“I think Snape will not be expecting this reaction,” Vlad agreed.

“It’s going to be time… Ready for hell?”

Vlad sighed and slowly nodded before standing up. He did _not_ want to to to Transfiguration with McGonagall, but he had to…

“By the way Vlad…”

The Russian stopped and turned to face Neville, still leaning against the wall. The dark green eyes of the Gryffindor met his friend’s.

“What do you think about Draco Malfoy?”

“He plays a role, like all of us. Racist but not an extremist. Clever, and a bit too spontaneous for his public character. But he most of all has to learn to think for himself and not through his father’s filters,” Vlad immediately answered.

“You’re right,” Neville murmured, eyes on the lake. “More than you’d think…”

“Nev…”

Vladmir waited until the Longbottom Heir’s gaze was on him once more.

“We’ll have to speak later.”

Neville gaze a sincere smile and Vladmir turned away from him to rapidly go to the East Tower, where the Transfiguration lessons took place. Last of the Ravenclaws, he arrived at the same time as the first Slytherins and observed Malfoy and his court settle down, thoughtfully. Why did Neville have an interest in the blond?

“Oi! Vlad! Where were you gone?” Kevin asked with a smile.

“Relaxing a bit.”

“Well, there’s a surprise!” Lisa Turpin intervened, tying her long auburn hair. “Between Snapy this morning and McGo this afternoon, it’s not his day!”

“Snapy?” Terry asked, amused.

“What?” she asked back, surprised.

The Ravenclaws smiled. In just three days, Lisa brought good mood and laughter by giving nicknames to everyone. Nothing mean. The classical ones where out of the question if possible and new one were found. Terry had got an adorable ‘Teddy’ – well, adorable for Lisa, which made the two other first-year girls laugh—and Michael had got an affectionate ‘Miky’ that got him to groan that he would have preferred ‘Mika’. Vladmir and Kevin had a bit more luck, keeping the usual ‘Vlad’ and ‘Kev’.

“Snapy? Isn’t that a bit… doggy dog?” Mandy murmured with a timid voice, starting the mocking laughs of her Housemates and the dark glances of the Slytherins who were listening to them discretely. They visibly didn’t like to hear their Head of House mocked.

“But that’s all like him, my lovely Dydy,” Lisa smiled, “barks a lot and bites a bit! We just have to adjust his leash tonight and it’s gonna be perfect!”

“Miss Turpin, 5 points from Ravenclaw because of your flagrant disrespect for a member of the teaching staff!”

The young girl jumped and blushed when she heard the severe and visibly furious Head of Gryffindor.

“Your attitude is unworthy of you House, rest assured your Head of House will be informed,” Professor McGonagall continued. “Now, enter silently!”

The pupils obeyed and the lesson was like all the others. Vladmir, not very keen on Transfiguration, tried his best to change a twig into a knitting needle. As he only managed to transfigure the match from the previous lesson with the help of a second year… The day after… He definitely didn’t like neither the subject nor the teacher who took a malicious pleasure in giving him extra homework when he didn’t manage to transfigure the twig at the end of the lesson.

It is thus quite irritated once again that he went to the library to find Draco. He stopped in front of the entrance to get a calm and neutral face before stepping into Hogwarts’ Inner Sanctum, greeting with a nod Mrs Pince.

After a few seconds, he saw that Malfoy had not arrived yet and chose a table in view of the entrance. He had just got his things out when he saw blond hair come inside his filed of view. Draco Malfoy was looking for him, along with three people. A tall boy with dark skin and almond-shaped eyes, a smiling young girl with blond hair and a small brunet with green eyes and a relaxed look. Their face was as expressive as Vlad’s at this very moment as they stared each other…

With a gesture, Vladmir cleared out part of the table in a silent invitation that was rapidly accepted. He stood up to greet them.

“Vladmir…”

“Draco…”

“I present to you: Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, all heir of their respective family,” Draco announced with a relatively solemn voice. My friends, let me present to you Vladmir Kemenov, Lord Potter.”

Vladmir gallantly kissed Daphne’s hand before shaking the hands of the two Slytherins firmly. He knew Zabini’s mother whose reputation was gossip-provoking and Nott’s name because it was very linked with the war with Voldemort. But Greengrass did not ring any bell.

“Won’t you present me to your charming fiancée?” Vladmir whispered mockingly as the four Slytherins were sitting down. Draco managed to choke while Daphne was hiding an amused giggle behind a small cough.

“Are you talking about Parkinson?”

“Who else?” Vladmir responded mockingly.

“I did not know your possible engagement,” Theodore Nott softly noted while giving Vladmir a sharp look.

“They are not,” Draco murmured while staring at Vladmir.

Vladmir gave a sneering smile while getting his Potions book out. He skimmed it, searching for some data that might prove useful for his essay in the properties of Barbossa pus. The Slytherins, after some time staring at him, did the same and focused on their homework.

They stayed several hours in the library, installing the premisses of a friendly understanding and exchanging their knowledge little but cleverly. Draco and Theodore were good in potions, Vladmir was outstanding in Defence Against Dark Arts, Blaise was keen on Transfiguration and Daphne knew Charms perfectly well. And all five of them had already mastered the bases of political games, playing on subterfuges and ancestral links between their families.

Dinner times came rapidly and they went down to the Great Hall rapidly. Their arrival didn’t go unnoticed to the eyes of the teachers and a few students. Vladmir could thus notice the scheming sparkle in Dumbledore’s eye and the anger inn McGonagall’s. Why? He didn’t know, but nothing he did seemed to please her, after all. He also saw Neville smile and Ronald Weasley’s grimace, next to him.

After the Slytherins’ promise to see each other for Astronomy in the evening, he went back to his table where he was buttonholed by an overexcited Lisa.

“Vladydear! Where were you to help us in Defence?” she exclaimed dramatically. “We only had Mickydear and Tony to do that.”

Mickydear who choked on his pumpkin juice over the new nickname, protesting out loud that he preferred the old one, the other boys laughing. Antony Goldstein gave a shy smile, as did Mandy.

However, Kevin was deeply sighing, bent over a Potions for beginners book, eating distractedly. Thus, he didn’t see their Head Boy come behind him before seeing his book taken from him.

“Blimey Entwhistle, no books while eating, third rule of Ravenclaws!” Bradley groaned while hitting Kevin’s head gently with said book.

“But I don’t understand anything in Potions,” Kevin moaned.

“We’ll bring this up tonight, but until then, I keep that.”

The Head Boy went back to the other end of the table while waving the book, and it’s in a good mood that Ravenclaws finished eating before going to their common room.

The Prefects then took things in hand. Ravenclaw welcomed around sixty students from all levels and all this number of people hardly fit in the common room. But magic helped a lot and with a few wand waves from the most gifted, the centre was cleared. All settled themselves on the ground or on the soft arm chairs as Professor Flitwick arrived at a lively pace.

The laughs fades and the room became silent as their Head of House looked gravely at them, standing at the centre of the circle of students.

“Your Prefects contacted me at noon. Ms Clearwater and Mr Bradley informed me of the meeting to bring up some things linked to the lessons with Professor Snape. Mr Bradley?”

William rose up and came to the centre of the room.

“The first Potions lesson of the eaglets was this morning. We have lost 80 points with it and noticed two things: the outright hatred of Professor Snape to Vladmir, and his total lack of teaching skills to teach Muggle-borns.”

“We’ve already noticed that,” a young second-year Asian girl signalled. “He has no teaching skill at all!”

“Indeed Cho, and until now, we sorted it out with internal tutoring. It was not a problem, because Snape stayed decent.”

 

Silent assents punctuated the explanation.

“We all agreed at noon to intervene before Professor Snape made a personal vendetta,” Penelope Clearwater declared.

“It has already started, you just have to look at the points we’ve lost in four hours! It’s not against you,” Roger Davies added with an apologetic smile to the first years sat on the rugs.

“Not only that, but he lashed out at Kevin for ridiculous reasons. Justin for Hufflepuff was doing worse and he didn’t have anything!” Padma exclaimed, supported by Lisa.

“And he decided to lash out at all years! Until now, he was relatively decent with us, but now, we have lost 40 points in 2 hours!” a third year rose up, rapidly supported by fifth years who had also been lynched in the end of the afternoon.

“Yes,” Davies agreed. “150 points lost between all years. We’re in the negatives, for the first time in 20 years!”

“And we’ve only had three days!” someone else added.

Numerous whispers went through the group of students under the proud look of their head of House. His eagles had asked for a meeting to protect the House on their own initiative. Withdrawn from the discussion, the short professor listened the debate in accelerated Potions tutoring to make the first years excellent, because they were still the first to suffer. He gave his opinion when his students asked for it, but he stayed silent otherwise. However, Vladmir’s case worried him more. If Severus kept his stubborn attitude, he will risk deep trouble.

After an hour of debate, through which some more general remarks were brought up, Flitwick stood up to conclude this extraordinary meeting.

“First and foremost, I am proud of you, my eagles. You knew to react as soon as the problems have arisen to defend our eaglets. You have proven us that you are a united House. I will talk to Professor Snape as soon as tomorrow about his attitude. If you have any more trouble, know that I support you. Mr Kemenov, I will also bring your case up and I hope he will be able to go beyond your line of descent. Be generally exemplary. Don’t give professor Snape a reason to question your work or attitude. And it also applies to the other teacher, doesn’t it, Ms Turpin?”

Lisa groaned a bit on irritable flea-infested cats before nodding under the laughs of the other Ravenclaws.

“With this, I wish you a good night. As for he eaglets, I think it is time for you to go to Astronomy. Professor Sinistra know you might be late, but don’t exaggerate.”

The Ravenclaws smiled as they saw their cadets swear and rush out of the common room to try and arrive on time. They only had 5 minutes to go to the other side of the castle.


End file.
